In Blood and Monsters, We Find Us
by StrawberryLaceSuicide
Summary: A Purgatory oneshot. Destiel, but nothing even remotely smutty.


_**AN**_**: Yeah, a Purgatory oneshot featuring Cas and Dean fluff, I guess. Enjoy. Xx**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any insecure hunters or misguided angels, so only this story belongs to me.**

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The thing seemingly comes from nowhere. In one moment, Dean and Castiel are making their way back to the cave they have claimed as home, Dean chuckling at some unintentionally humourous comment the Angel has made, and Cas looking on with a confused half-smile on his face, and then, just as Dean is about to explain the joke, a ferocious growl rips through the air, and from the shadows springs an enormous beast.

It pounces on Castiel before he can move, bowling him over with claws extended, and ready to tear out his throat. Within seconds, Dean is in motion, leaping onto the creature's back and pulling its massive head back by a fistful of thick, unkempt fur. He draws his blade across it's jugular in one swift movement, and a viscous black liquid oozes from the wound as the creature slumps sideways to the ground, dead.

Without stopping, Dean turns his attention to his fallen comrade.

"Cas?" He says, lowering himself onto his knees at the Angel's side. "You okay, buddy? Did it get you?"

Castiel smiles faintly up at the hunter, and lifts an arm from where it lay across his stomach to reveal an ugly wound, streaming scarlet.

"You could say that." He jokes weakly, his voice wracked with pain. Instantly, Dean is there, okacing both hands over the injury as if the mere pressure of his touch will force the skin closed.

"You're fine, Cas, you're gonna be fine. It's just a scratch, see?" He speaks shakily, looking frantically around to find something to help him stem the flow of blood. Castiel looks at Dean's hand, already painted red, and knows it is hopeless. Dean speaks in a constant panicked stream above him.

"Dammit, why aren't you healing? You can fix this, use your angel mojo, _do_ something, that thing might have friends, and-" Castiel decides it might be best to cut him off short.

"Dean," he rasps. His throat seems impossibly dry. He places a hand over Dean's, stilling its motions over his wound. "I'm dying."

Dean looks him straight in the eye, and Cas can read all of the adrenaline-soaked determination, and the sheer terror on his green eyes.

"No, you're not." He says unsteadily, breaking eye contact, and resuming his efforts. Cas can hear how deeply Dean needs that to be true, and his heart breaks a little.

"Dean," he tries again, "yes, I am."

Dean shakes his head violently.

"No, no you're _not_, because you don't get to make that call, alright? I haven't forgiven you yet." - They both know that's a lie - "You owe me, remember? You're not going anywhere, not today."

"Dean, you need to let go-"

"No!" Dean's voice explodes out of him, shaky with pain and rage and fear. He looks defiantly into the Angel's eyes. "Dammit, Cas! I will _not_, not this time. We are all we've got down here, and you are not leaving me on my own. We need to get back to Sammy, both of us, in one piece. You are an _Angel_. An actual, honest-to-God _Angel_, and you are not gonna die from a scratch some overgrown puppy gave you. I am not giving up on you, and so help me God, you aren't either, so suck it up – dying is not on the agenda. We are too young, and too good-looking, and I gotta take care of my little brother, so if you feel like spewing any more of that last words crap, don't expect me to listen to it. One way or another, you are gonna pull through this, or I swear to Godm I will bring you back just to kill you all over again." When he is finished, Dean breathes heavily, looking away from Cas finally to focus solely on the torn flesh of Castiel's side.

Cas is stunned momentarily into silence.

"Dean," he begins softly, but he is interrupted by chapped lips pressed hard and furious against his. Shocked, he can do nothing but freeze. Dean pulls away, and leans his forehead against Cas'.

"Don't you _dare_ leave me here alone, Cas." He growls, moving back to his work. Cas can taste his breath still, warm and desperate, and mingling with his own. His tongue flits subconsciously over his lips, and he shakes his head to clear it.

"Of course not, Dean." He murmurs, and he means it. They have discovered something here, in the undergrowth of a place worse than Hell, amidst the blood and monsters, and he intends to see what it becomes. The hunter and the Angel. So he concentrates every ounce of power he can muster on repairing his body, mending the skin, replenishing the lost blood, purging his veins of the monster. The white-blue glow of his power illuminates a victorious smile on Dean's face.

"That's more like it!" He crows. Cas' eyelids droop shut with exhaustion, and so he cannot see Dean's expression as he asks concernedly, "Cas, you still with me?"

A small, reassuring smile flickers across his features for a moment. "I am fine, Dean, do not worry. But I am tired." He can hear the relief in Dean's reply.

"Oh, okay." He smiles again, unconsciousness crowding the corners of his mind, when he senses Dean's presence closer to him. His eyelids crack open, and Dean's smiling face fills his vision. Every freckle visible on the surface of his skin.

"Goodnight, Cas." He says softly, and Cas' eyes close again. He drifts into sleep on the ghost of a smiling kiss.

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**Xx**


End file.
